


Crush Me Like Candy

by BitterSongofGrace



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Head Boy Tom Riddle, Head Girl Hermione, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, M/M, Tom and Harry Same Age, future smut, parties at Gryffindor aaayyyy, to Harry and Ron, why are all my Gryffindors obsessed with Slytherins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 23:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20398105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterSongofGrace/pseuds/BitterSongofGrace
Summary: If Harry Potter dies, Tom Riddle did it. Or his crippling crush did it?If only Harry could remember to breathe when he felt the guy’s magic, there wouldn’t be a problem.





	Crush Me Like Candy

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, this is new. I haven’t updated Eyes in years (because it desperately needs to be rewritten), but I still follow Tomarry daily. Let me know how I did if you could, I’m a little concerned it’s sloppy and completely uninteresting, so... yeah. Anyways, thanks for tapping into this story :) I do hope everyone enjoys!

Hermione made it very clear as they stepped onto the train — she would NOT be persuaded by either of her best friends to join in any pursuit that would make her abuse her newfound influence as Head Girl.

To that statement, Ron scoffed. Harry couldn’t do anything but sheepishly rub the back of his head.

With the skills only a seeker could have, Harry quickly slipped around his friends and got through the compartment door first, claiming the window seat on the right. He fully intended on napping before Hogwarts - since his mum and dad felt the need to make an early morning out of his last day at home. Or he should say it was probably more of his mum than dad, if the three mugs of coffee said anything. Harry’s theory was confirmed after he saw James run into the wooden post at the end of the stairs. His dad had this amazing ability to walk while asleep, his glasses hiding the fact that his eyes were still closed. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if James was asleep for the pictures too.

‘Honestly mom, pictures? Do I look 11 still?’

Ron shuffled in after Hermione. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist ‘Mione. Besides, this is how we find out your ‘big news’? You nagging us before we can even close the door?” The redhead slid the door shut behind him and turned face first into a thick tome.

Harry snickered as the female of their trio sniffed and retracted her book from the air. She primly sat on the other side, legs crossed and book/weapon in her lap.

Harry assumed that wouldn’t be the last time Ron got beat with a book on this trip.

“Jeez Hermione, take a joke,” the youngest Weasley son said as he palmed his nose and checked for blood.

“Well, I’m completely serious. All circumstances considered, they should of never made me Head Girl with all the trouble you lot stir,” the witch said, looking between the two of them as if stern eye contact would get her point across.

“Don’t worry about me Hermione. Potions and quidditch are enough to keep me out of trouble,” Harry said. And it was the truth. Snape gave him no free passes despite the close friendship with his mum, and the threat of a ‘T’ on his NEWTs hanging over his head made Harry realize that he would need to try significantly harder this year.

Being Gryffindor’s quidditch captain for a second year wouldn’t be quite as stressful as last year, but he couldn’t lose grip on that either. If they won the quidditch cup again, he’d be two for two as the captain, and six out of seven for his Hogwarts career.

So, Potions and quidditch. Harry could do both - he has to do both. His future as an auror counted on both.

“Oh really? You, Harry Potter, who practically lives to stir chaos between Hufflepuffs and the other houses—“

“I do not ‘stir chaos’-“

“Yeah you do mate. Especially with the Hufflepuffs.” Ron took the time to chime in, probably happy to not be on the other end of Hermione’s ire.

“They just— they’re not as nice as everyone seems to think! Hufflepuffs aren’t inherently kind and sweet and adorable like everyone paints them to be. I mean yeah, some of them can be nice, but it’s mostly just a stupid facade they all go along with so that they can skip away without someone blaming them for the terror they caused in the first place.”

Harry’s closest friends both shared looks through his rant, and Harry finished with Ron laughing and Hermione sighing heavily.

Harry could feel his face get warm, embarrassed that he went on a tangent, but seriously. People thought Slytherins were evil. At least you can expect Slytherins to manipulate you. Human ambition and all.

Better the enemy you know than the enemy you don’t.

And Harry said as much to Ron and Hermione.

“Speaking of Slytherins, did you hear about Draco?” Ron asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

“No, I’m sure you’ll tell us though,” Hermione said, flipping open her book.

Ron’s face split into a grin, either ignoring or just oblivious to Hermione’s disinterest. “He broke it off! The engagement to Greengrass is dead in the water now. I’m telling you, he doesn’t like witches, he’s gotta like blokes.”

At the end of last term, there was the rumor of Malfoy being engaged. After it came out that he was engaged to Daphne Greengrass, Ron fell into a depression that not even quidditch or chocolate frogs could cure. He brought himself out of the slump eventually over the summer (after Molly Weasley literally pulled him out of bed).

“Woah woah, Ron, take it easy,” Harry put his hands up, as if the motion could put the brakes on his friend’s fast train to Malfoy oblivion. “I don’t think ending an arranged marriage to a girl means he’s gay. Keyword: arranged. He might like girls, he might like blokes, but he probably just doesn’t want to marry someone his parents picked for him.”

“I second that,” Hermione added.

“Besides Ron, you’ve pined for him for years. You haven’t hidden it from — well, anyone really. Least of all him. And this is it, our last year at Hogwarts. There’s got to be someone else that catches your fancy.” Not to mention that if Harry heard Ron mumble in his sleep ‘Draco, your ass is gorgeous’ one more time, he was taking permanent residence in the Room of Requirement.

Ron blinked. Then blinked again.

Oh boy, Harry thought, I broke him. The poor guy couldn’t even feel the heartbreak anymore, all he could do was stare in misery now.

But then Ron jumped up, startling both Harry and Hermione. “You’re right, you’re bloody right!”

“I am?” Harry asked hopefully.

“Yes mate, this is it! The one last stand! This is the year, I can feel it. If this doesn’t work, nothing will!”

“Oh god,” Hermione groaned.

Harry facepalmed.

“Just hear me out! Draco, he’s entitled to everything — because he’s beautiful and fierce and just his smile alone can—“

“I’m going to barf,” mumbled Hermione.

Ron cleared his throat. “Anyways, so he likes attention, right? I always give it to him. Pining, whatever you want to call it, it’s all he’s known from me.”

“Obsessed is probably the better term.”

Sitting next to Harry, Ron leaned forward and bent in close as if conspiring. “But what if I stop? What if I just ignore him?”

Harry nodded, somewhat understanding.

Draco Malfoy was spoilt by his parents and things, plus people sucked up to him in a way that soured his stomach. Malfoy was used to it, maybe more so from Ron than anyone else even.

Ron, since first year, always gave Malfoy a present for Yule and for his birthday in June. The Weasley’s weren’t well off for money, and every sickle spent came from Ron helping Hagrid with exotic or Forbidden Forest creatures: taming, feeding, and even healing if found injured in the Forest.

In the Summer, Ron would go for three weeks to a paid internship with his brother Charlie in Romania. Working with dragons was not safe OR easy, but he did it year after year, and again, every sickle went towards saving for an extravagant present for Malfoy.

“It might work Ron. But it might not,” Harry said, trying again to keep his friend level headed. “What’ll happen if it doesn’t work?”

Ron leaned back and crossed his arms sullenly. “It will, it has to. Or I’m doomed to die alone.”

Before Harry could say anything else, a book flew the air, bound spine of it connecting flat with Ron’s forehead.

“You’re utterly ridiculous Ron Weasley,” Hermione huffed.

Harry couldn’t help the laughs spilling out of him as Ron whined to Hermione.

Their compartment door opened then.

Harry knew who stood in the entrance without having to look. He felt the magic rush in — brushing his skin like a summer breeze, cool and smooth after a rain had passed. He was sure by the way Hermione looked at him that he probably froze. ‘Like a deer in the headlights,’ she would always say. ‘When he comes near, you’re always so still, and I’m afraid you aren’t breathing.’ Harry could feel the tightness in his belly, and chest, and hell, maybe he really didn’t breathe enough.

“Hermione,” came the smooth drawl. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant summer.”

Hermione tore her eyes from Harry, smiling up at Tom Riddle. “I did, thank you. I hope your summer was pleasant as well.” She pulled out her wand and cast a tempus charm. Fifteen minutes after three is what Harry assumed, unable to completely break free from Tom’s magic to look. Hermione had Head Girl duties at that time.

“Well boys, behave yourselves. It’s time to organize the prefect meeting with Tom. Ron, I expect you to be on time please.”

“Yes mum,” Ron said sarcastically.

Harry finally felt the tension starting to leave his body as Tom and Hermione left. He let out a shaky breath, pulled off his glasses, and put his head in his hands.

Merlin, he thought. Why is it always like this?

“You feeling okay, mate? I know the first couple days around him aren’t fun.”

Harry let out a bitter laugh before slipping his glasses back over his eyes. “You mean having a crush so severe that it cripples me just being near him? Yeah, I kind of hate myself.”

Ron opened his mouth in reply, but Harry eyed Hermione’s book and stood. He knew Hermione always stored written notes on her magical bookmark, and being that she and Tom were leading the prefect meeting as Head Girl and Head Boy this year, she would most likely come back to fetch it.

He waved to Ron and said that he’d be back before another word could be said.

He just needed space. Harry didn’t want more attention drawn to his ‘affliction’ than needed, and Ron was sure to keep going if he stayed.

Plus, a walk might help shake it off.

This had been a problem for Harry since first year. Even at eleven, the raven-haired child knew his reaction wasn’t quite normal. When he sat down next to Tom that first potions class together, Harry felt the magic.

He couldn’t explain it any other way, it had to be the other boy’s magic.

It felt so pleasing and drifted so easy over his skin, but his body seemed to always freeze. All Harry could do was feel, he almost craved it and never wanted to leave Tom’s side. But the act of freezing and his inability to continue functioning seemed to make that impossible.

It really didn’t help that he was also very, very physically attracted to Tom Riddle.

But, that’s probably not surprising. Everyone found Tom attractive. From the aristocratic face with blue eyes that almost looked like sapphires to the Grecian god-like figure (Harry would know after the quidditch pitch and locker rooms — the one and only year that Gryffindor lost the quidditch cup happened to be the one year Tom decided to play. He came in as a chaser for the Slytherins, stole the quidditch cup for their team, and then mysteriously decided he didn’t want to play quidditch anymore.)

The heir to Slytherin was even nice. Mainly polite, Harry supposed, but he didn’t care about blood supremacy as people tend to fear from Slytherins. So maybe the guy didn’t save kittens from fires, but he didn’t sacrifice kittens either.

Prolonged exposure helped a bit. Last year, with the significantly smaller potions class after only so many students passed their OWLs (coughSnapecough), Harry found himself around Tom much more often. By the end of the year, he was able to focus well enough to get passing grades, and Harry even almost started a conversation with Tom.

Harry shook his head, ripping himself from the delirium that was Tom Riddle. One year, he thought. One more year of making a fool of myself.

As he was walking towards the meeting compartment for prefects, Harry suddenly felt dizzy.

The cool summer breeze touched his skin, and his steps slowed to a stop.

But Tom should be—

An arm shot out from his left, wrapping around his waist and tugging him into an open compartment. Harry could barely breathe, he was confused and so disoriented, and before he knew it, Tom Riddle had him cornered against the walls of the train.

In his head, Harry cursed.

Because with firm hands on his shoulder and blue eyes glaring down at his face, Tom Riddle had him properly trapped there.

And he doesn’t look too happy.


End file.
